


Fever

by Lady Mythos (Lady_Mythos), Searece



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Coming Untouched, Dark, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, M/M, Manhandling, Master/Pet, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Showers, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 04:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Mythos/pseuds/Lady%20Mythos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searece/pseuds/Searece
Summary: Praxus is a place of rules, regulation, and order. But even the most rigid of societies have their dark secrets. For behind the veneer of prosperity and sophistication, the Hunting Fever looms large behind it all.Oh, Jazz. Didn't you know the first rule of Praxus is to fear a lone vehicle chasing you down?





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an RP done by Searece and myself about a year ago and I only just now finished editing it today. It's based on a Tumblr post by insecuriosity which goes, "So, Praxians are often depicted having this urge to chase, or an affinity for the hunt. A lot of the time, a fun little race ends with hiked up doorwings and a dominant horny Praxian cluthing his prize. Now when a young thief Jazz visits Praxus, he thinks he's too fast to catch. When Prowl is on his tail, he remembers the rumours around Praxians and chasing, and he starts getting really afraid that his punishment will be more... interface-y than jail-y." Well, we kind of ran with it and it got pretty dark. There's a lot of influence from Skylar Matthews "The Flaw in Every Crystal " in this. 
> 
> I will say please mind the tags! Prowl is Not Very Nice in this fic and his actions could be very triggering to some.

_ ‘Dis ain’t s’pposed t’ ‘appen!’ _Jazz panicked, speeding through the streets of Praxus at a breakneck speed. Behind him blared the relentless siren of a lone Enforcer pursuing Jazz with terrifying focus. Jazz’s processor raced through his options, as limited as they were. His fuel indicator sat at a damning 7%; if he used his altmode for much longer, Jazz knew he would drive himself to deactivation. But he couldn’t just swerve onto a side street. Somehow, the Enforcer had herded Jazz onto a long stretch of abandoned apartments and other ramshackle structures. Each potential escape route lead to a dead end and something deep inside Jazz told him that if death did not wait for him at the end of the road, then capture would.

_ And all of this for a cube of energon… _

Jazz knew he would have to time this right. His only option was to flip back into root mode, hide out in one of the buildings, pray that he wasn’t caught, and then sneak his way back into the non-citizen slums. How he could do that without dying in the streets was still up in the air, but anything was better than being caught by an Enforcer. No one ever came back after being caught by an Enforcer.

His spark flew into his intake as Jazz took a quick look at his energy levels. _ ‘Frag meh, it’s at 6%!’ _It was now or never. 

With all of his strength, Jazz violently swerved left, ignoring the bite of debris on the road into his tires. As soon as his rear bumper passed into the shadows, Jazz flipped into his root mode and _ ran _. He leapt over dumpsters, cartwheeling over piles of scrap metal and glass. He needed to get out of this. Maybe there was a loose board or hole in a fence where Jazz could slip into. If the Enforcer caught up, there was no telling what could happen to him. Jazz had to make it. For all of the noncitizens harassed and belittled by Praxus, for his own safety and security, he has to make it out alive!

A body tackled him out of nowhere, slamming Jazz into a metal wall. Jazz blindly clawed at his captor. No, no, no, no, _ no _ ! He had to escape, he couldn’t allow himself to be captured, he couldn't, he had to get out of this, he had to run, he had to run, he had to _ run _—

“I have you now,” a silken baritone purred. The Enforcer’s engine began to rumble and the servo that wasn’t pinning Jazz to the wall stroked at his horns. Jazz squirmed at the maddeningly conflicting sensations. The Enforcer’s vibrations felt unbearably good against his chassis but the sheer terror of _ who _ had him captive made the bottom of Jazz’s tanks fall out. He whined and writhed but the Enforcer’s grip held firm. “Relax.”

Something in the command released some unknown tension in Jazz and he just deflated, completely lolled in these strange arms.

Prowl pressed the tempting little mech up against the dilapidated building, engine hot from exertion and, incredibly, Fever. He had been led on quite the merry chase by the defiant mech beneath him. This was supposed to be a normal pursuit. 

The non-citizen criminal was just like every other; someone who could not abide by Praxian laws and had to be removed. Prowl took point on the tactical side, as he usually did, and organized the perfect sting operation. Everything had gone according to plan. The thief appeared, attempted to take a few items, and was confronted by the Enforcers on scene. And then, something went wrong. The criminal somehow managed to evade them and escaped into the streets. A grand chase ensued.

Prowlcouldn’t target when his Fever struck but something changed when the thief transformed into root mode, still at top speeds, and backflipped over a median before landing in his altmode and dashing in the opposite direction. Everything melted away and all Prowl could see was an increasingly enticing bumper begging to be chased. The demands of his tacnet faded into the distance as he gave into the urge to Hunt his prey, barely registering the discreet exit of the rest of his subordinates. He had chased the little thief relentlessly, coaxing him towards the _ perfect _ place to spring a trap. And now, his prey stood, pressed against him, aqua visor glaring daggers. Prowl couldn’t wait to pick him apart. 

"You must be exhausted, little thief. I haven’t been given a chase like that for a very long time. Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be skulking around energon supply shops like a petty burglar. So tell me, why do you steal?"

Jazz glared up at his captor, chest heaving with the force of his in-vents. “Ah don’ t’ink ya care ‘nuff fo’ meh ta say.”

“Indulge a curious Enforcer.”

Jazz screwed up his mouth and looked away. It’s not like the Enforcer could make his life anymore troublesome than it already was at this point. "Ah'm 'ungry. Ain't enuff jobs fo' non-citizens since we rare an' nobody trusts us. Ah dun wanna steal but Ah gotta feed mahself somehow."

"All incidents you _ were _ spotted around energon shops. Hmm..." Prowl leaned forward and brushed his lips against the tip of the thief's horns. "So fast even while hungry. I wonder how you would be well-fueled."

Jazz squirmed at the sensation. This Praxian Enforcer was rather _ touchy _ to say the least. "Look, Ah'm sorry fo' thiefin' wut Ah did but Ah ain' sorry fo' tryna feed mahself. Ain' no point in messin' wit' meh now. Jus' cart meh off to de penhouse already."

"Of course. We cannot have you stealing any more now that I've caught you." Prowl pulled away, cuffed him before he could attempt another escape, and flipped the thief—no, _ prize _—onto his front (cueing an offended squawk).

"State your designation," he ordered and pushed his prize's shoulder.

"Jazz, 'm Jazz. No need to be pushy, Primus!" Jazz snapped.

"Prowl." It would be courteous to let the mech, Jazz, know who was bringing him in. Standard procedure was to call a transport for caught criminals, but he didn't want to let his servos off Jazz for a second. Prowl grabbed a slender shoulder as well as a particularly curvy hip and pulled Jazz off of the wall. Time to get his prize to the Enforcer station for processing. "What brought you to my city, _ Jazz _?"

"What else? Need. Ah miss Polyhex wit' all mah spark but Ah refuse ta live as a gutta-snipe like Ah wuz befo'. Thought Praxus wuz different an' a decent mech could make enuf ta feed hisself. Well, look how wrong I wuz." 

Jazz twisted his helmets are to eye Prowl, who looked far too invested in Jazz's textpad sobstory. "Whuz wid dat face? Ya far too int'rested 'n a simple lil thief like meh."

"You are the only one who has ever given me such a magnificent chase," Prowl purred, his wings flaring out to dispel heat. He rubbed his chevron against Jazz's helm, careful not to scratch him with its sharp edges. His Hunt coding was still very much active from the chase; he would return to more normal behavior when he cooled down. He'd be embarrassed later.

Jazz squeaked at the sudden contact. A rush of memories flooded him, fellow non-citizens who whispered about the Hunting Fever and the fear of a lone Enforcer chasing them down, a particularly light-fingered femme disappearing after a massive chase shrunk to one mech, rumors of illicit street races turning into public claimings after citizens became involved. Jazz felt his spark lurch with fear and something else that he dared not examine. Had he been goading the Enforcer this entire time without even recognizing it?

"No retort, little thief? How uncharacteristic. Ah, here we are." Prowl's servo on Jazz's hip squeezed as he pushed the mech up the street into the Enforcer station that came into view. It made Jazz much less of a hassle. The pair walked in, greeted by the bustle of a surprisingly busy office considering the time of the dark cycle. All manner of Enforcers filled the small space. Some (more than usual due to a certain thief) were just getting off shift, others reporting for duty, and still others carried stacks of datapads for datawork. Normally, Prowl would have dismissed the noise but he normally did not have a Hunt Prize on him. So, though he nodded cordially to the receptionist and his subordinates who passed him by, Prowl pressed Jazz tighter against his chest.

Jazz shrank back into his Enforcer, optics darting around the station. He never realized just how many Enforcers this part of Praxus was riddled with. All of his exploits had seen a minimal number of bots on his tail, save for the more recent, and disastrous, one. He was genuinely surprised so much crime happened under their optics. Jazz hated every single one of them. While Enforcer Prowl was his captor, he was a far more stable variable than the random Enforcers milling about. Though his processor ached and his tanks gurgled, Jazz carefully tagged as many Enforcers as he could alongside the number of doors, windows, and potential hiding spots. Having a mental floor map would help his chances of escape.

Thankfully, nobody stopped them as Prowl led Jazz along, though everyone looked stunned that Prowl had found a mech who had activated his Hunt protocols. _ ‘Though it might be wise to project my intentions towards my Charge,’ _ he mused as he flared his wings even higher. He stopped at a split in the hallway, the right corridor leading to the cells and the left leading to the offices, including his own. Even while on a Hunt, proper procedure dictated that he take Jazz down to the cells for official processing while he filled out the paperwork necessary for sponsorship. Then he would need to wait two to three cycles until his request was confirmed (which it would be as Prowl had both significant personal clout and allies among the administration). 

Prowl went left. What was a few more hours in the face of endearing his Charge to him before the official transfer? Blessedly, the hall was completely devoid of any curious Enforcers. His office opened to his spark signature as he approached it. He walked Jazz inside before flipping him against the wall, purring down at him as the door closed. His servos slid to Jazz's hips and gripped tightly. "Now, how should I handle _ you _, little thief?"

Oh frag him with a rusty blade, this wasn't Jazz's day. His frame shivered involuntarily at the Enforcer’s touch, who was _ far _ more attractive in bright light. Jazz knew that his time at Praxus had made him rather particular to the Praxian frame, but the betrayal of his circuits made him wish that the haughty attitude of many of the citizens had turned him off of the frametype. To make matters worse, he shouldn’t even have had the energy to be _ this _ bothered by the Enforcer’s proximity. His energon alert had turned completely white. He barely had ten klicks before he shut down. This was the worst possible time to find out that the rumors about Praxians and their Hunts were very, very, _ very _ true. But never let it be said that Jazz couldn’t slap on a brave face. He stared straight at those predatory eyes and cracked a smirk. "Lettin' meh go's a good start, officah."

"Oh, I cannot do that. You are a criminal, and you need to be punished." Prowl's servo slid from Jazz's hip to his neck, wrapped around it, and squeezed just slightly, normally retracted claws extending. "No, you are not going anywhere."

Jazz’s smirk faltered, servos twitching behind his back. His gurgling tanks made maintaining his bravado much harder than he wanted to admit. He was completely over his helm here. The Enforcer’s digits around his neck felt strange, frightening but soothing at the same time. His glossa suddenly became thick and unwieldy in his mouth. 

Prowl smirked and bumped his chevron's center shield against Jazz's forehelm. Strange little thing he was. He wasn't sure which he liked more, the submission or that brief cockiness. "How hungry are you, my little thief?" Prowl brought his other servo up and cupped Jazz's cheek, dragging his thumb across strangely soft lips.

Jazz bit his cheek. What should he do? The Enforcer didn't seem like the kind of mech who’d drug him, but Jazz couldn't read him at all. Should he play dead, rebel, completely submit to the Enforcer's wishes? He couldn't think, couldn't speak—

His tanks snarled.

"Oh, quite hungry, then." Prowl stepped back and tugged Jazz with him then turned and pushed him into the visitor's chair. "Unfortunately, I do not have anything suitable for you with me now, so wait right here, will you? Not that you have a choice." 

Prowl rubbed his servos over Jazz's helm and pinched the tips of his audio horns with his claws. The small moan that slipped made his spark curl. He strode out the door and locked it behind him before heading straight for the dispensary to fetch a couple energon cubes for his prize. He hoped he would finish his task unimpeded.

Jazz sagged in the chair. He tucked his knees up into his chassis, wishing he could wrap his arms around them to preserve what little heat he had left. There was a strange chill in the air Jazz was sure wasn’t just the office air conditioning kicking in for the night. That was not a good sign, was it?

Jazz dropped his helm onto his knees. What had he done to deserve this slag? He may have been a petty thief but he only stole enough to feed himself. He even gave some up to the other non-citizens who were in more need than him. Primus liked that sort of give and take. So why was he getting so much attention, and especially _ flirty _ attention, from some big shot Enforcer? Only big-ups had an office, after all. Frag, he needed to eat something. Would he even be online long enough for that?

Prowl stalked into the dispensary, his wings erect, optics alert. He pressed his identification decal onto the dispenser and ordered two cubes of rich midgrade energon.

"Hey, what are those doing out?"

Prowl eyed at the other Enforcer speaking to him. Flashbang was one of the officers who had joined him to take Jazz down. Prowl's wings flattened. Flashbang did not typically question him. Perhaps he was trying to take his Charge for himself. Prowl hoped that the other knew that Prowl would destroy him in a challenge for Jazz. As he got a cube for himself, the mech flexed his digits at Prowl. Oh. His claws were still out. The other enforcer laughed and bumped Prowl’s shoulder, much to his displeasure.

"I can’t believe that little thief’s got you so riled up! Maybe I should take a look at him."

"You will do no such thing," he snarled, optics flaring and engine howling. Prowl slammed the other mech against the wall, wings high and aggressive. The mech chuckled nervously and lowered his wings submissively. _ Good. _ Prowl collected his cubes and swept back to his office, patently ignoring the brilliant yellow warnings of his tactical computer.

Jazz kept his helm down. Even if the door wasn’t locked, his energy levels were too low to run or fight. Any droplets of fuel that had been left from his desperate escape attempt were all burnt up. He was literally running on fumes at this moment. Maybe that's why Prowl had grabbed him, to laugh and mock a mech in his final moments before deactivation. It wouldn’t be the cruelest thing a citizen has done to a non-citizen. Jazz knew the rumors. Funny, he had almost found himself liking the brisk, if grabby, Enforcer Prowl.

Prowl walked through the door, expecting to be met with Jazz’s contrite little face glaring up at him, quip on his lips. Instead, he was greeted by a tiny shivering ball of mech about to tremble off of the chair. His coding screamed at him to take care of his prize and Prowl was standing in front of Jazz before he had even realized that he had moved. He set one cube of energon on the desk. Servo freed, he tilted Jazz's helm back and grabbed his chin, thrusting a digit between the mech's lips to part them. "Open up. I cannot have you going into stasis on me." He set the cube against Jazz's lips and allowed a trickle of thick midgrade to enter his mouth.

For millennia afterwards, Jazz would still say that that first drop of midgrade on his tongue was and always would be the best thing he had ever tasted. He wanted more. So much more. His tanks had been on near-empty for so long and the intoxicating taste of good, clean energon was driving him wild. But it was coming so slow. Why was it coming so slow? Jazz lunged forwards, trying to get as much of it into his tanks as possible.

"Oh!" Prowl lifted up the midgrade out of the mech's range and caught Jazz against him, the lunge more than he had expected as he braced himself. He was glad he hadn't been crouching or he would have been knocked on his aft. Cradling Jazz against him, Prowl eased the two of them down until Jazz’s helm lay in the crook of his arm and his body splayed across Prowl’s lap."Calm yourself, There's plenty here for you and it will not be taken away from you. Do not rush or you will choke." 

He lowered it back to Jazz's lips and tilted a small stream into them.

Jazz knew he should be mortified that Enforcer Prowl was feeding him like a newspark but his tanks couldn't care less. He had cut it far too close this time. Even if he had managed to escape the Enforcer, he would have died in one of the gutters. At least now he was filling up. The Enforcer kept a steady stream flowing and his plating was warm. He hated to admit it but it went deeper. Jazz felt the safest he had ever felt in his life cradled in the arms of some strange Enforcer who had him arrested and cuffed for thievery. Funny how slag works out that way.

"Yes, there you go. Drink up." Prowl watched carefully to make sure there was no choking as the energon disappeared, Jazz's throat flexing enticingly as he drank. He let go of the mech's helm when he was sure he would keep it open on his own and instead stroked the tender throat with the back of his claws. When the cube was empty, he rubbed Jazz’s abdomen before picking up the other cube from the desk above. "Do you have room for more?"

Jazz looked away and nodded quietly. He already owed the Enforcer a lot; there was little to do to make things worse. Energon was expensive these orns and Jazz knew that accepting even one cube was tantamount to selling his frame away. All he could do was gain enough energy to survive and somehow make his escape. The only thing he wouldn't do was beg, he desperately hoped Enforcer Prowl wouldn't make him beg. With a small sigh, he tucked his helm into the warm chassis to absorb as much comfort as he could before Prowl inevitably took it away.

"Good." Prowl rubbed Jazz's helm, particularly the base of his horns, and lifted the new cube to Jazz's lips. He loved the feel of the slightly smaller mech leaning against him, touches he never thought he'd initiate himself. He never thought his Hunting Fever would stir, and so strong so fast, too, taking over all his thoughts and shunting other priorities low. "I wonder how much you can take. Keep drinking. I want to stuff you full until you cannot remember what it was like to feel hungry." He lipped at the stubby horn closer to him until he could comfortably nuzzle it.

Jazz felt his tanks fill in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. A quick glance at his HUD showed his tanks at 55% and rising, indicator a cheery pink that he never knew existed. He squirmed in Prowl's arms. The extra charge buzzed through his system, powering systems that had been long dead. He hoped Prowl was joking about stuffing him because he was barely over half full and he felt like his frame would jitter out of control.

"Be still now, little thief, or you'll spill some. You don't want that, do you?" Prowl smirked and, despite his words, pulled the cube away from Jazz. What a lovely little prize, perfectly compliant and dependant on him. He could not wait to wash him free of the grime accumulated on his plating. After all, if Jazz was to be both prize and Charge, he would not tolerate uncleanliness. He set the cube down and pushed Jazz off of his lap. It would not be good to become any more soiled. Prowl had to keep up his orderly appearance, after all.

He braced Jazz against the desk and spread those thick little thighs around his waist. Picking the opened cube back up, Prowl swirled it in front of Jazz’s visor. It was still three quarters full. "You're going to drink all this, too, aren't you? You can fit it all, right?"

"Ah-Ah dunno, Ah've never been dis full befo'." Jazz whimpered, clenching his servoes into fists over and over again in a desperate attempt to control his shaking. Prowl's presence so close to his rapidly onlining interface system was not helping. Would he even survive drinking the rest of the cube? Jazz was always too hungry to ingest high-grade and other stims but if this is how they left bots, shaking out of their systems and bouncing off of the walls, then Jazz couldn't understand how bots could crave more. "Ah dunno, Ah, Ah- _ Please, Ah dunno, jus’ please _."

Prowl's engine revved as Jazz's frame heated up, different systems in the mech's frame audibly starting up, which was something he shouldn't be able to hear, though maybe it was just returning to a normal noise level since his frame had been so quiet before. He noted he would definitely have to get Jazz looked at by a medic later. "Good mech, neediness is fetching from you." He leant closer, almost chest to chest with Jazz, and tilted the cube against his lips to feed more of the thick energon. "I'll make sure you are never that hungry again," he promised.

Jazz's spark twisted at the words, a desperate keen choked back only by the need to keep drinking. Did Prowl know what he was offering? How hard it was for Jazz to pretend that the offer didn't touch at the core of his hopes and dreams? Jazz wanted, oh how he wanted. He longed for the gentle touches to continue and for the fuel to keep flowing, even with his tanks so full. But would he be able to survive the inevitable demands Prowl would make in exchange for his supposed kindness? Jazz didn't know. All he could do was drink and fret in Prowl's too-soothing embrace.

Prowl watched as the contents of this cube, too, disappeared entirely. Jazz wasn't fighting it at all, only seeming to get more desperate as the cube drained. Prowl set the empty cube down and purred, his wings flaring behind him, framing his helm. "I am impressed with you. What are your levels at? Should I get _ another _ cube?" 

A devious smile crept over his face as he wondered if his little prize could even handle any more. With how jittery Jazz was, plating flexing, arms twitching behind him, vents blowing warm, Prowl wasn't sure.

"'Mmmmm a-at full capa-pa-city," Jazz stammered. His systems had gone completely out of whack with what felt like a tidal wave of excess energy. His processor felt miles ahead of his frame which already felt like he could run twenty races and win every one. That's probably why he babbled, "SsSo ya fed-ed-ed meh, nn-n-now whaddya wANt from mmmmeh?"

"Hmm, it is almost as if you are overcharged. You truly have not been full in a while." Prowl reached around Jazz with both servos and took hold of his wrists. Even without being able to see the cuffs, he deftly released them and tucked them back into his subspace. "I want to chase you and catch you all over again. You're mine. I want to _ take _ you, too, but... Not with you so filthy. No, I'm going to clean you up now. Can you stand?" 

He stood and stepped back from Jazz, looking down at him. He wouldn't mind carrying the mech, not at all.

Jazz gathered the remains of his tattered dignity around him. He may have been chased, caught, and fed like a sparkling but there was no way on Primus's metal planet that he'd let Prowl carry him. Jazz sucked in a deep in-vent. He reached out trembling arms and braced himself against the ground. He wasn't sure about his pedes, but his chassis should be good for a spell. Jazz tried to tuck his pedes under himself, but his knees gave out and he collapsed against the desk again. Great, first step failed.

"Are you going to answer me?" Purring, Prowl grabbed Jazz's helm by a cute stubby audio horn, gently pulling up to force Jazz to keep looking at him. He could not wait to bring the mech home, to sequester him away in a soft nest and touch him and feed him.

Jazz flushed blue. A needy moan slipped his throat; the firm touch on his horn felt indescribably good. He felt like a strange cross between a stray cyberkitten in a box picked up by a compassionate passerby and a runaway turbopup whose owner had just caught him. Jazz wanted to stand, wanted to stick it to Prowl and his bossy personality. But his legs still trembled. Even sitting flat on the floor felt like a precarious balancing act. Jazz took one last look at the rags of dignity and bid them a solemn farewell. "Pl-leasSse, can ya-a-a-a hhhelp mEeh up?”

Prowl smirked. "I would tell you to speak up save that I know you cannot." He squeezed Jazz's horn and released it. He crouched beside Jazz and heaved him up. Prowl held him close, supporting him with an arm beneath his aft. "There we go. Off to the washracks now with you, little thief."

Jazz wrapped his legs around Prowl's hips for extra security and buried his helm into the broad shoulder. Normally Jazz would be fighting to keep an eye on the situation as well as other bots around him. But with how charged he was, he didn't think he could handle the sensory overload of so many variables in so small a space. He would be happy to let Prowl take the helm at this stage. Though there was one problem...... "'Mm na-ame'S Jazz, not lit-tle thief!"

Prowl chuckled and hiked Jazz up higher. "Yes, I heard you earlier when you told me. It's quite a lovely name." He strode out the door and turned to go to the washracks of the station, where enforcers went after patrolling the streets. They weren't anything fancy, but they would serve his purpose well enough. The mechs he passed on his way there skittered by, familiar with the consequences of what would happen should they annoy a bot in his state. "Quite feisty."

"Y-yeah, well _ UsE _ it some-some time." Jazz grumbled. "'M more den jus-jus' a thief."

"So long as _ you _use mine, dearest Jazz. But you’ve piqued my curiosity. What else do you have besides theft?" he asked out of sincere curiosity. What could he reward the mech with? What was there to this mech? What interests did he have? He walked into the washracks and nudged one of the stools in the corner over to a stall. Reluctantly, he set Jazz onto it, wondering if he would be able to keep his balance.

Jazz sagged against the cool walls. He was starting to regain control of his body again, but the overcharge still has many of his systems shock. He rested his cheek on the metal, looking away from Prowl. "Ah al-always wanted-ed to become-come a performa. SingiN' an' dancin are what Ah do best. To bad Ah can't eat Offa dat ‘ere.”

"Oh, you cannot?" Prowl quirked an optic ridge and sensory panel. He angled the spout _ mostly _ away from striking Jazz and turned on Jazz's shoulder. "Why not?"

"'S hard b'comin' a performa, 'specialy when ya style ain't nothin' like what Praxians like." Jazz purred at the soft bristles scraping at his plating. Prowl definitely know how to get at those spots between seams.

"Ah. I would not know. I do not have a processor suited for appreciating such activities. But... I would not mind _ private _ performances from you," Prowl crooned with a small tweak of each of Jazz's horns. Prowl shifted behind him to clean Jazz's back next since he was leaning against the wall with his shoulder. Gradually, scratched paint was revealed to him, and he noted how much in need of a repaint the mech was. Jazz was dirtier than he thought. "Could you learn a different style if taught for the sake of a job?"

Jazz scoffed at the amorous suggestion but leaned into the touches. "Half o' music fo' Praxians can't be sensed wit'out wings. Y'all got frequencies dat Ah can't hear even wit' mah horns. Plus, dancin's also hard when much o' de nuance needs wings as well. Ah wuz doomed ta fail even befo' Ah stepped pede here." Jazz drooped at the thought. He really had believed that Praxians would have enjoyed the new approach to music and dancing and entertaining that he wanted to bring to the table. Unfortunately, no Praxian producer wanted to take a chance on an unwinged non-citizen.

Poor little Polyhexian. Prowl didn't know enough about the music industry in Praxus to be of any help. He kept one of Jazz's horns cupped in his left servo as he moved around the mech's frame to scrub Jazz's chest and the tempting seams where his spark was hidden from view. He pondered his next words. Why was he about to say this to the mech? "I have heard of modifications to give a non winged frame wings. Sometimes when our sparklings are born, they lack wings and must be given them by artificial means. Perhaps the same could be done for you." 

The thought of seeing this wonderfully fast mech with wings made Prowl shiver. Oh, how he wanted to chase after him again.

Jazz bit his lip. His speech may have settled but everything else was still on the fritz. It was taking everything in his power to keep his chestplates closed tight against those intoxicating caresses. It was bad enough that Prowl had taken control of his frame, giving up his spark would be tantamount to destroying his will. But that wasn't all. Prowl's offer sounded like some strange dream but Jazz knew better. He still had his pride as an independent Polyhexian and he would never change himself to pretend to be Praxian.

"Ah can't do dat, mech. ah'm a Poly, through an' through. Pretendin' Ah'm somethin' else jus' means dat Ah'm givin' up ta satisfy some snotty aft. Ah'm a Poly an' Ah'm stayin' Poly."

Pity. Prowl had to admire the mech's will to stay as he was because changing would be so much easier. He would have even paid for the procedure. 

"Very well. I must defer to your admirable resolve." He moved on from Jazz's chest after getting a delightful shiver and knelt so he cleaned the mech's abdomen, hips, and pelvis.

A helpless moan slipped from Jazz's mouth. Great, now he was struggling between keeping his interface panel sealed and his spark chamber closed. Oh frag, how was he going to keep his sanity if Prowl kept touching him so much? Jazz felt ready to break. He wanted Prowl's servoes on him but Jazz didn't know how his frame would be able to withstand anymore.

"That is a sweet sound." Prowl smirked. He pushed Jazz so his back was against the wall and pushed his way between the mech's legs, forcibly spreading them. He tweaked the wires under Jazz's hip paneling. "You need a very _ thorough _ cleaning here, Jazz. It might take a while, hmm?"

_ Snkt— _ Jazz's interface panel slipped open, much to his humiliation. Lubricant dripped onto the seat below. Jazz whimpered and fumbled his servoes until he blocked his valve from view. 

Prowl's engine revved. He scrubbed Jazz's thighs and leaned his face close to his hips. "Shy? I want to clean there too, though with a completely different instrument." He nipped Jazz's knuckles. His chin brushed the seat where the lubricant was.

Jazz ducked his helm. His servoes trembled in front of his paneling. He still had no trust in Prowl. Prowl had Jazz precisely where he wanted him, vulnerable and open. Jazz didn't know if Prowl was going to destroy him if Jazz let him close out of his own free will. Jazz whined desperately.

"Not yet? Understandable." He would simply have to seduce the mech into giving in. Already he looked forward to the challenge. Prowl squeezed Jazz's thighs and started scrubbing his legs, holding them up when he needed to reach the backs. He _ would _ have the Polyhexian eventually. He purposefully dipped deeper into Jazz's seams than strictly necessary, scraping hardly touched wires with his claws.

Jazz keened, claws sheathing and exposing themselves in time to each wire tweak. More lubricant pooled from his bare valve. Prowl was driving him wild with every touch on his body. His hypersensitive frame practically fritzed. Jazz vibrated with energy but had no place to dispel it. If he wasn't careful, static arcs would start creeping along his plating and that wasn't good for anyone involved.

"Oh, yes, what a pretty Polyhexian you are. Such lovely claws I see." Prowl purred as his helpless prize quavered and edged his way to a tactile overload. He scrubbed down Jazz’s legs with harsher brush strokes and dug his digits into slender ankles, rubbing the wires there. "Come on, lovely." 

What would drive the mech over the edge? What was sensitive on him? Other than his valve and chest seam as he didn't want to scare the mech _ too _ much by forcing touches there just yet. His optics drifted up Jazz's frame. _ There _, those pretty horns, of course! His servos jerked up, brush clattering to the floor as he quickly stood and grabbed Jazz's helm. He squeezed both horns and scraped his claws over them.

Jazz screamed, frame locking up as an incredibly powerful overload flooded his system. Jazz rarely interfaced because it expended far too much precious energy. He didn't realize that his abstinence coupled with the rush of being fully fueled would make his horns so sensitive. But now his entire frame was awash in maddening sensation that had him unknowingly gushing from his valve. His optics fritzed and he was lost in the overwhelming pleasure.

Prowl's wings fanned out smugly as Jazz slumped against the wall. Arousal shot through him, but he would take care of himself later. He let go of those wonderful little horns and retrieved the solvent hose. He sprayed Jazz off, starting at his pedes and slowly working his way up so as to not startle him. Jazz’s overload had been a thing of beauty. Now Prowl longed to see Jazz spread out and whimpering beneath him, visor and voice staticky from two or three overloads, begging weakly for Prowl’s spike. Yes, Prowl was looking forwards to more overloads from Jazz.

Rebooting was a strange experience without angry pink alerts screeching about his low energy levels. Jazz restarted his visor a few times. Sterile gray walls and the patter of solvent against his frame reminded Jazz where he was. At the mercy of a bizarrely amorous Enforcer Prowl. The overcharged feeling had thankfully dissipated, though his tanks still felt unwieldy and full. Jazz shivered at the sensation of warm solvent sluicing off the lather from his plating. He weakly closed his interface panel, thankful that all of his faculties had returned. Even if it was on the heels of his first overload since he had left Polyhex.

Prowl's pleased engine purr would not stop, not that he wanted it to. Rinsing Jazz's warm frame off went much faster than soaping him up had, and in no time, Prowl tilted Jazz's helm back with his free servo and angled the solvent spray around his helm so that nothing would get into his mouth or under his visor. He still wanted to polish Jazz. "Will you be able to stand?" he asked, optics darkening as he imagined carrying Jazz again, even _ more _ dependent on him. His wings flicked to attempt to disperse the gathering charge under his plating.

Blessedly, Jazz's pedes could support his weight, even if his knees were a bit wobbly. He slowly rose from the stool and, using the wall as support, straightened himself upright. "Ah ken walk, t'anks. Mah pedes finally decided ta work. Ya don' gotta hover no mo'.”

If anything, Jazz's words made Prowl stick closer to the Polyhexian after he finally turned the spray off. He watched the solvent drip down Jazz's armor and set a servo against his lower back to direct him to the air dryer part of the washracks, where hot air blasted out to dry their frames. 

"Ah, but how will I catch you if you fall?" or if he decided to run. Prowl took a bottle of polish from the wall and showed it to Jazz in offer as they dried, letting him read the label.

Jazz frowned up at Prowl. He may have had good taste in polish but Jazz wasn't sure about the personalized care, especially as he was a still a prisoner of Praxus. If anything, he should be processed and penned up in a holding cell. "Ya realize ya don' gotta do dat, right? 'S'not like ya own meh. Ya shouldn't be takin' 'sponsibility fo' meh."

"I am cognizant of that." Prowl applied some polish on a cloth and started rubbing gentle circles onto Jazz's helm. "What should I do instead?"

He leaned close and sniffed, pondering the mech's words. He did not _ own _ him, no, but he could fix that. He shifted behind Jazz and slid a surprisingly still clawed servo to encircle the mech's neck.

"A-ah dunno," Jazz stammered, that damned servo again feeling far too perfect around his vulnerable throat. His interface system fizzed at low arousal again. How the frag was he raring to go already?! Anyways, Jazz still had to finish stringing his misbehaving thoughts together. "Toss meh in de pen? Confirm mah identity? Set up a court date? Treat meh like a normal criminal?"

"Having piqued my curiosity," and far more than that, "you are not a normal criminal, but... yes, you should be punished." Prowl squeezed Jazz's tender throat cables gently as he moved the polishing cloth down to his back armor. "I will place you in a holding cell while I start the paperwork for your processing." 

And, he thought, to get Jazz placed under his _ care _.

Jazz swallowed hollowly at the squeeze. Well, he knew he'd end up in the big house at some point. The question was, why wasn't he a normal criminal and what did that mean for his own good? He sighed and slumped into Prowl's hold. "So tell meh. What'm Ah in fo' in de penhouse?"

Let's see. What could he charge Jazz with? Nothing false, of course. He shifted to polish Jazz's front as he answered, tweaking wires under the larger armor plates as he answered, "Shoplifting, theft in the first degree, evasion of the law. _ Defying _ an Enforcer. Very, very naughty of you.”

"Yeah, yeah," Jazz muttered, rolling his eyes to hide the jolts of arousal. "Ah'm a bad mech dat's a disgrace ta meh frame type. Dat Ah get. Ah'm talkin' 'bout _ inside _ de penhouse. What am Ah in fo dere?"

When he was finished with Jazz's chest and abdomen, he knelt and started on his hips and pelvis, speaking casually as he slid the polishing cloth on Jazz's panels and between his legs, "My sincerest hope is that you don't have to go. There is an... alternative discipline I believe you will be perfect for that I will suggest upon submission of the paperwork."

Of course, being the respected enforcer that he is, he should have very little trouble acquiring Jazz…

Jazz's hackles rose even as his valve rippled longingly. His instincts were screaming that his fate was about to take a turn for the slagging weird but he couldn't figure out if that was going to be a good or bad thing. He compartmentalized the pleasure of Prowl's touch to ask, "Whaddya mean _ alternative _?"

"You would be homed with a respectable member of society, who would become your Sponsor, and re-educated about the error of your ways before being sent back out to society when your Sponsor deems you, the Charge, a sufficiently productive mech." _ And he couldn't wait to start. _ He slid the polishing cloth down Jazz's perfect thighs and lifted one of his legs to get better reach at Jazz's pedes.

Jazz may not be a scholar but he wasn’t an idiot. This situation was no exception. "Am Ah ta assume dat yer mah potential Sponsor?"

Prowl's wings twitched up in his smugness as he polished Jazz's other pede then stood up. "I would allow no other to Sponsor you. Now come. I will drop you off in the cells." He didn't want to, _ really _ didn't want to, but Jazz was _ far _ too distracting to keep in his office. He wouldn't get anything done if he was staring and wanting to chase the mech the whole time. Perhaps he would barely get anything done anyway.

Jazz bit his lip. This felt like standing at the edge of a precipice. But what else was he to do? He had been caught and thoroughly claimed, plus he didn't want to see what citizens did to non-citizens in prison. Jazz stood reluctantly and followed Prowl out of the washracks, the arm around his waist feeling like an iron bar.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, that's it. Its marked as complete for now. But who knows? Searece and I will probably continue this later. I hope you guys enjoy! Please let me know of any missing tags, thanks.


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